


On the Care and Feeding of Christmas Trees

by Bobcatmoran



Category: Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Christmas, Gen, Implied/Referenced Drug Use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-25
Updated: 2016-12-25
Packaged: 2018-09-12 02:07:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 460
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9050992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bobcatmoran/pseuds/Bobcatmoran
Summary: Feuilly has volunteered to water Jehan's plants while the latter is out of town for Christmas. Little does he know what awaits him…





	

**Author's Note:**

> Sequel to [O Tannenbaum](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5253107), which you might want to read first. It's short, don't worry. I'll wait here.

Feuilly frowned as he walked up the stairs to Jean Prouvaire’s lodgings. Prouvaire had left him with detailed instructions on how to care for his plants while he was gone back to the Midi for the winter holidays, which Feuilly was quite willing to do, especially in exchange for free reign of Prouvaire’s extensive library.

Unfortunately, said instructions were full of helpful tips such as “Beatrice likes to be sung to” or “I think that Amynome has been looking quite melancholy and would enjoy being taken for a walk.” Feuilly loved his friend dearly, but not quite to the point of being willing to take his potted plants for a walk. Also, Prouvaire only listed his plants by name, with no helpful descriptors like “the one by the window” or “the one with the pink flowers.” Feuilly looked at the list once more, sighed, then pulled out the key to Prouvaire’s rooms.

The first thing that struck him was that, unlike previous times when he’d been to Prouvaire’s, the rooms actually smelt pleasant, rather than that odd, grassy, burnt-rope smell that they usually had. It took Feuilly a moment to place it — pine, maybe? — then he closed the door, and got a full view of the sitting room.

There was a tree.

In the room.

Indoors.

A tree.

An entire tree.

Why on _earth…_

Feuilly looked closer and saw that there were, bizarrely, cookies tied to the branches, in the shape of little men. Some of them were missing their heads, and others were wearing what might, if you squinted, be little phrygian caps. Someone had also tied candles to the branches, and, in what seemed to be a terrible fire hazard, had lit them, judging by the burned-down state of some of the candles and the wax drippings. Not for the first time, Feuilly marveled that Prouvaire had not burned his home down.

There was a complicated setup of tubes and funnels that led under the tree to the bucket that the tree was sitting in. Feuilly dutifully poured water into it and noted with amusement that somewhere in that mess, someone had set up a set of metal pieces that played an extremely off-key rendition of the first two bars of "La Marseillaise" when they were hit.

He then went around and watered the other plants, including one that appeared to be nothing more than a green nub covered in spines, and a very droopy looking plant with pointy leaves and a tangle of greenish, unpleasant-smelling flowers (presumably the aforementioned melancholy Amynome).

Duties done, Feuilly edged around the tree to Prouvaire’s bookshelf, picked out a thick volume entitled _The Oresteia_ that looked interesting, and curled up on the end of the sofa that was not dominated by tree.


End file.
